


i think that im gonna get high

by gottabewhatomorrowneeds



Series: i’ll give you all the nails you need [9]
Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys - My Chemical Romance (Album), The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Comic)
Genre: ? - Freeform, Amnesia, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Pre-Canon, Recreational Drug Use, Temporary Character Death, This got strangely long, dont take any of this too seriously, its weed but whatever, no beta we die like the fab four, there’s others but whatever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:27:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25816540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gottabewhatomorrowneeds/pseuds/gottabewhatomorrowneeds
Summary: Party Poison stumbles into the lives of the rest of the killjoys bleeding, half dead, and high as a kite.Kobra meets someone he hasn’t seen in years.
Series: i’ll give you all the nails you need [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1622683
Comments: 16
Kudos: 24





	i think that im gonna get high

It’s quiet.

Party Poison blinks a few times, glancing around them. They press a hand to their stomach, trying to feel the spot where a Drac had sent a nasty laser blast searing into their skin. When they move their hand away, there’s no blood staining their fingertips nor any indication they had been shot. Strange.

They take a moment to soak in their surroundings, glancing around curiously. They’re sitting down in a chair, clearly inside a building Poison hadn’t been in when they collapsed to the desert sand moments before from dehydration and heat stroke and other ungodly combinations of sickness.

Poison has only been to a hospital once in their life, back when they had first came too at the age of twelve, when BLi told them that their family had died in a terrible killjoy related accident and Party Poison was the only survivor. They said killjoys raided their home on the outskirts of Battery City and slaughtered their parents and their sister. Poison survived, but they faced quite a bit of physical trauma which resulted in a strange case of amnesia.

Poison didn’t know it back then, when they were twelve years old, waking up in a hospital bed, confused and without a proper identity, that they sold that same old story to every single person who’s memories they scrambled after a re-education process that was unsuccessful.

Still, Poison remembers being in a hospital even if it was only once, even if it was their first memory. They remember the entire building, what the doctors office looked like and the hospital beds felt like and the sounds of the monotonous and identical nurses.

Right now, Party Poison’s obviously sitting in the hospital waiting room. And they have no idea how they got there.

They slip out of the chair. They don’t feel a lick of pain despite the fact that while escaping Battery City, they had gotten shot three times, one in the stomach, another on the shoulder, and another in the leg. They weren’t fatal in that moment, but Poison knew that they could potentially bleed out or get infected.

But Poison had to leave the city first, had to run as far and as fast as they could. So they did just that. They started running and they never looked back or stopped until five minutes ago when they passed the fuck out on the side of the road.

They walk around a bit, heading towards the exit. They could leave, easy, but something told them to stay. So they just glanced out the windows of the door, peering into a world that looked completely different from how they left it.

They sky was a hazy purple. There was no visible sun, yet it still appeared to be day time, or rather, on the verge of sunset. The desert sands dazzled like gold coins, and Poison watches the purple slowly begin to get richer in colour before trying to find other things to satisfy their curiosity.

There’s another set of doors deeper in the room. Poison knows that this will, or should, lead into the rest of the hospital. Poison begins to walk towards it, wondering idly what tests beyond this small room. Are there others here?

They place a hand on the handle. The windows are tinted far too darkly for Poison to see what lurks beyond them. They’re about to turn the knob when the back of their neck prickles.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” someone drawled. 

Poison spun on their heels, glancing at the figure they can swear wasn’t there before. She’s leaning against what should be the receptionist’s desk, a cigarette between Her clawed fingers. She’s dressed to the nines in feathers, some which float off Her bizarre outfit and drift to the floor like the petals of a wilting rose.

“Why not?”

“Once you leave this room, you can’t go back.” She takes a drag from Her cigarette, and then offers it to Poison, like She’s trying to offer a tantalising treat to a scared little animal.

Poison hesitates. Well, BLi had always been against smoking, but Poison no longer had to follow their regulations. They take the cigarette from Her fingers, careful not to get scratched, and try to mimic Her, huffing in and out.

This is definitely not a normal cigarette. Poison chokes a bit, before wrinkling their nose at the smell. Poisons been around killjoys enough to know that this isn’t nicotine. “What the fuck is this?”

“It’s a blunt.” Sheplucks it back out of their hands and takes a drag. “Don’t you have more questions? Usually people do.”

“It’s weed?”

“Well, when I said more questions, I meant more about the situation you’re in and less about the fact I offered you weed.”

She tips it back towards them, and Poison glances at it before trying again. They suck a smaller breath in before huffing back out. It’s actually not that bad, now that they’re not choking. “Oh. Well, then, yeah, I do have a few questions.”

“Fire away.” The blunt is offered, and Poison takes it.

“Okay, so, where am I?”

“Right where you used to be.”

“Huh?”

“You’re still in the same spot you collapsed at.”

“But… this is a hospital waiting room?”

“Is it?” She takes another drag. At this point, Poison is feeling faintly fuzzy.

“Yes?”

“Not quite. Where you’re at, dear, is in another plane of existence that inhibits the other plane you were just in. You’re in the same spot, but a new reality.”

“I’m fucking lost.” Poison rubs their forehead but takes the blunt back. “You lost me.”

“Maybe letting you get high before explaining things wasn’t my best idea.” She doesn’t take away the blunt from them, though. “Alright, simply put, you’re dead.”

Their fingers begin to shake so violently they nearly drop the blunt. “What?”

“Come on, it can’t possibly be that surprising. Did you really think you’d survive more than two days without food, water, shelter, all out in this sweltering heat while constantly running? And of course, the fact that you’re bleeding out as we speak?”

“I’m dead,” Poison repeats. For some reason, the words aren’t quite clicking. They should feel upset, or dispair, or something at the realisation that their escape into freedom was only a taste before they were going to be sent unto a new hell. But Poison doesn’t really feel any of that, just tasting the words on their tongue that doesn’t feel quite the way it used to.

“You sure are.” She ruffles their hair. “Sort of.”

“Sort of? What, I’m… only kind of dead?”

“You catch on quick. Exactly.”

“Explain.” They huff on the blunt, then add, absently, “Please.”

“When you die, your soul still lingers on. My job is to help guide your soul into the afterlife. Until I have, you’re stuck in this waiting room. So you’re dead, kind of, but you’re not fully dead.” She hums. “There’s a chance you can go back.”

She points at the doors Poison was about to open. “But once you go in there, then you are fully, fully dead. There is no escape for you, no second chances. Once you leave the waiting room and enter deeper into this new reality, you have become too detached from your body to go back. Does this make sense?”

Poison can’t feel their hands. “I… think so.”

“I guess as best you can, with how high you are.” She plucks the weed from their hands and gazes into their eyes. Poison can’t see Her own, but they can definitely feel them. “So here’s my question for you, hun. What do you want to do?”

Poison’s trying to sort out their thoughts. The practical, exterminator side of them is trying to sober them up from all that weed, while the newly let loose, freedom loving potential killjoy side is trying to stay high. It’s making thinking and processing a bit difficult. “Huh?”

“You’re not completely dead, you know. You haven’t traveled into the unknown. You’re here in this waiting room. So would you like me to guide you into the afterlife? Or do you want to try again?”

Poison squints at Her. The lights in this waiting room feel bizarrely bright all of a sudden. They rub their face, trying to think. What do they want to do?

Poison can’t remember the last time they’ve been asked. To make a decision, to act for themselves, to do something that wasn’t predestined, to prove that they have a free will, to make a choice… Poisons not sure they’ve ever done that before.

“Well, getting high with you is kind of fun,” Poison begins, feeling strangely relaxed. They’ve suddenly become aware of how their muscles no longer have their usual tension, and their skin feels like it’s going to slide right off. “Holy fuck… do souls have skin….”

“Come on, focus.”

“Shit, uh…” Poison tries to ignore the sensation and focuses on Her face. “Well, I mean, can I go back?”

“To being alive?”

“Yeah. Coming back from the dead, is that like, a thing?”

“Oh yeah, it happens all the time. I can let you go.”

Poison sighs, rather excited at the prospect. The strange deity suddenly grabs their arm, Her claws cold against their skin. Do they have skin? Aren’t they a soul? Do souls have skin?

They can feel their heartbeat race at the sensation, thumping loudly like the roar of a motor engine. Poison blinks a few times, trying to steady themselves and the odd sensations around them. Her claws don’t tear into their skin, but they do prick a bit, like needles not quite breaking skin but close.

“I need a sacrifice.”

“A sacrifice?”

“Guiding your soul back to its body is hard work.” She takes a drag, Her hand still on their arm. It’s not a bad sensation. “I need something in return.”

“Anything?”

“Anything, material or otherwise.”

“I think you have gorgeous eyes.”

“Is flattery what you’re trying to offer? You can’t even see my eyes.”

“No, but like, I feel them?” Poison itches their neck. “They feel pretty. I think.”

The deity glances away. “Oh, well, thanks.”

“Your claws are super cool, too. They’re so shiny. How do you keep them so sharp?”

“Oh, it’s all natural.”

“Man, flawless skincare routine, huh? Hey, isn’t like, painting nails a thing, with killjoys? I think I’ve seen that on a few bodies before. Holy shit, do you think I could paint your nails? Purple would look good. Purple seems like your colour.”

“If we meet again, I think I’d let you.”

“Man, that would be so cool. Dude, you’re so cool. That mask is kick ass. Your aesthetic is sick. I love the bird vibes. Birds are so cool. For the longest time I didn’t think they actually existed, but like, I’m glad you do.”

The deity snatches Her hand away from their arm. “Ok, that’s enough flattery, you can leave now!”

“Did I say something wrong?”

Her feathers appear ruffled, and She coughs. She takes a long drag of the blunt. “No, just get out, okay?”

“How?”

“Through the exit doors, idiot.”

Poison glances at the doors in front of them. “Oh, huh. I could have just walked out whenever?”

“Not really. You need my permission to leave.”

“And I have that now?”

There’s hesitation. “Yes. Now get your ass out of here.”

She grabs their arm again, this time moving out from the receptionist’s desk and pushing them along. “I have other guests to attend to. And you have a destiny to fulfill. It is not within my right to keep you here for so long.”

Poison blinks. “Destiny?”

“Yep. And yours is just about to start.”

She opens a door. For a moment, Party Poison simply stares out into the distance. A claw on their back snaps them to attention, and before they can react, the deity begins to push them out of the hospital.

“My name's the Phoenix Witch,” Her voice intones. “I have a feeling we’ll meet again. Feel free to come with weed.”

Everything goes black.

-

“We’re lost, aren’t we?”

Hot Chimp grips the wheel of the car, silently fuming. Not at Newsie, of course- that woman is an angel incarnate and could never do harm. Well, she could, because she’s also very much a force of chaos, but, well. Hot Chimp loves her too much to ever get mad, even when she asks questions like this.

“If Cherri Cola had given us actual directions, maybe we wouldn’t be lost!” Hot Chimp’s foot begins to press down on the gas. Newsie watches her, an amused smile tilting her painted lips. “‘I can give you directions to the diner! Go straight down Route Guano, turn a left where the sand shimmers brighter than normal, then a left at the rock that looks exactly like JFK’s head, then a right at the cactus that looks like Fun Ghoul but taller’!”

Newsie laughs at Hot Chimp’s imitation of Cherri’s voice. “‘Don’t worry Chimp!’” Newsie mocks, her hand acting like a mouth as she continues to quote him. “‘Just let your aura guide you!’”

“Literally!” Hot Chimp slaps the steering wheel, cackling. “What the fuck does that even mean?”

“Who the hell is JFK?” Newsie shrieks. “God, he’s the fucking worst!”

“He can write poetry but he can’t give us directions!”

“He writes directions like he’s writing poetry!”

“Man, we're never gonna find it now!” Hot Chimp huffs, rapping her fingers on the wheel. “We’ve been on the road for like, twelve hours! It’s already night! We were supposed to meet them at like, five.”

Newsie glances out the windshield, frowning. “I hope they’re not worried.”

“Once they find out Cherri gave us directions, they’ll understand. Man, next time, let’s just ask Jet. That man’s a fucking compass.”

“Not morally, though.” Newsie places a hand on Hot Chimp’s on the wheel. “Ugh, I was looking forward to watching shitty b-movies with them.”

“And poker night with Kobra and Ghoul!” Hot Chimp begins to press on the accelerator a bit faster. “I swear, I’m gonna beat Kobra’s ass.”

“Don’t be pissy that you lost!”

“He cheated!”

“No, Ghoul’s the one that cheats, and he still loses.”

“There’s no way Kobra doesn’t cheat, I refuse to believe that bastard doesn’t cheat! He’s got aces up his sleeve, I swear it!”

“No, I've watched him during poker and- holy shit! Chimp, stop! Stop!”

Hot Chimp begins to spin the steering wheel as Newsie points at the strange object lying in the middle of the road. It’s completely black, visible in the ink of the night only from the dim light of their headlights shining directly on it.

Hot Chimp manages to drive around it before skidding to a stop, facing the object with the headlights still aimed directly at it. Newsie places a hand over Hot Chimpa’s again and sighs. “Thank god, it’s just a body.”

“Well, let's loot it.” Hot Chimp’s already unbuckling her death belt. “No point in letting things get wasted. Maybe they’ve got a gun.”

They clamber out of the Volvo. Newsie shivers, but Hot Chimp doesn’t offer her her jacket. Newsie chose to wear the most revealing goth shit she had, and she has her leather jacket in the car. That’s on her.

Chimp stands back a bit while Newsie inspects the body. She pushes it off it’s stomach and on it’s back, before placing a hand on its neck to feel the pulse. She frowns at it, staring at the face a bit. “Dead. Man, sure looks familiar. You think they’re a killjoy?”

“Their gun isn’t painted.” Newsie grabs the gun from the holster and begins to turn it over.

“It’s pretty new. Their clothes are not my style, too militaryish to be goth. But this gun is nice, I guess.”

Newsie stands up, twirling the gun. She suddenly sniffs the air and frowns, glancing at Hot Chimp. “Hey, do you smell that? Smells like Ghoul’s weed.”

Suddenly, the corpse lurches upwards, and two things happen at once.

First, Hot Chimp and Newsagogo aim their blasters straight at the corpse, who’s now trying to sit up, but they’re just propping themself up with their elbows, appearing winded at moving. 

Second, Hot Chimp and Newsie start screaming. They’ve seen a lot of shit in their few years in the desert, but not once have corpses like them brushed off death and started to move.

“I thought it was dead!” Hot Chimp cries.

“It didn’t have a pulse!”

“Hey, guys,” the corpse croaks casually. Their throat seems a bit dry. They give them a lazy way, which makes Hot Chimp switch the safety off her gun.

“Who are you?”

“Who are you?” They giggle back.

“Chimp, I think they’re high.”

“I’m not high.” The corpse rolls its neck. “Look, I'm on the ground.”

Newsie gives Chimp a flat look. Chimp sighs and sucks in a deep breath. “Ok, ok, well, you’re not dead now, I guess. Ok. I don’t trust this one bit.”

“Cherri deals with the supernatural, maybe he knows something about corpses coming back to life?” Newsie keeps her eyes on the corpse. “Why don’t we radio him and ask him what to do?”

“That witch devotee better make himself useful for once.” Hot Chimp begins to back away slowly from the corpse, heading back to the Volvo. The corpse is watching them with lazy eyes, appearing rather calm in the face of a good chance of getting shot by either of their jittery fingers. “Stay put.”

She opens the car door and yanks at the radio, dialing Cherri’s frequency. “Yo, Cola! This is Hot Chimp!”

“Hi, Hot Chimp.” Cherri answers immediately, sounding concerned. “Hey, where are you guys?”

“Yeah, Route Guano. Your directions were shit. Anyway, hey, we found this body but it turned out they weren’t a body. Like, it came back from the dead. What do we do?”

There’s only static for a few seconds. “Well, bring the kid back to the diner, I guess. If they died, they’re probably not in good condition, and if the Witch let them live, there must be something special about them.”

“Hey, also, they smell like weed? Like, they didn’t smell like that until a few seconds before they woke up, does that mean anything?”

“Oh, yeah, dead bodies do that sometimes. Smell of decay, I think.”

“Huh.” Hot Chimp considers the explanation. “Weird. Hey, put Jet on the line. I need directions to the new diner.”

“Hi, Chimp!” Jet cheers. “How are you? Is everything okay?”

“Dandy,” she deadpans. “We’re off Route Guano. How do we get to the diner?”

Jet gives her the exact coordinates and a simple set of directions. She hangs up with him after giving him her gratitude, and then pulls herself out of the car. She walks back to Newsie and the corpse, guns still drawn on them.

“Alright, Cherri wants us to bring this kid back to the diner.” Hot Chimp sighs. “I don’t trust you for a minute, so we’re going to ride in the back together. Newsie, take the wheel.”

She tosses the keys at Newsie, who catches them with ease. Hot Chimp grabs the corpse’s arm, yanking them to their feet. They groan a bit, and Hot Chimp jams a gun in their side, unknowingly right where they had been shot at nearly three days earlier. “Come on, lets get you to Cherri.”

“Isn’t that a vegetable?” They ask, before dissolving into a couple of giggles. Hot Chimp sighs as they get inside.

“Shut up and don’t bleed out on me.”

“No promises.”

The engine roars to life as Newsie switches the ignition. Hot Chimp’s beginning to see that this kid isn’t exactly in great shape. Well, hopefully they won’t die again before they reach the diner.

-

Kobra’s sitting across from Ghoul in a booth, playing a game of go fish. Kobra’s pretty sure Ghoul is trying to cheat, considering he just played five jacks as a pair. Kobra let it slide since he was winning, anyway.

Jet and Cherri are chatting a bit to their left. Cherri seems excited about something, chattering away about the Witch and divine intervention and fate and all the like. Kobra tunes it out and focuses on the game.

The sound of a car door slamming startled all of them. There’s bickering, Hot Chimp’s loud voice carrying through the diner walls along with another that sounds familiar. It’s not Newsie’s, though. Strange.

The door bursts open, Hot Chimp kicking it. They all begin to head towards the door, where they find Hot Chimp holding up someone dressed in all black, her gun shoved into their side. The person’s head is hanging so low Kobra can’t even see their face, just a wall of frayed white hair. Newsie has two guns pressed in the back of the person they’re carrying.

“Here they are!” Jet cheers.

“I brought the body,” Hot Chimp growls. “This bastard tried dying on us three fucking times! Uh-uh! I will not let this bitch bleed out on my nice leather seats!”

“God, I feel so sticky,” the corpse groans. “Can you feel that? Feels like the colour blue.”

“Also, they’re high as a fucking kite.”

Hot Chimp shoves the person into Cherri’s arms, who staggers under the weight. Cherri holds the person, frowning at the bloody mess. “Hm, well, this wasn’t exactly what I was expecting, but the question about them smelling like weed should have tipped me off.”

“Literally what the fuck is happening,” Ghoul finally chimes in, staring at Hot Chimp’s bloodied clothes before back at the person who’s buried in Cherri’s chest. 

“God, your chest feels like steel,” the person drones. “It’s like being cradled by a wall. How jacked are you?”

“Ok, so we found this bastard off of Route Guano,” Newsie explains, pushing her way inside of the diner before plopping down in a booth. “And we thought they were dead so we tried to loot their body, but then they came back to life, so we brought them here so Cherri could interrogate them about the afterlife and sew them back together.”

Hot Chimp tried to wipe the blood off her pink jacket. “God, they bleed as much as Show Pony sweats glitter.”

Cherri drags the person towards the back near the large booth. Kobra and Ghoul follow after, curious, and Jet Star begins to rush off for some medical supplies.

Cherri drops the person flat on their back, settling them on the table. Kobra finally gets a good look at their face and suddenly finds himself staring at a mirror reflection.

Something in Kobra shatters at the sight before him.

“It’s you!” Kobra cries. He shoves Cherri out of the way, pushing himself into the seat of the booth. The person stares up at him with half lidded eyes and Kobra pulls them into a tight hug, scooping them up from the table and into his arms.

“Holy fuck, it’s been, like, seven years! I thought you were dead, I can’t believe this!”

They don’t hug back. Kobra isn’t chuffed at that, though, but he does pull away a little to look into their eyes again. There’s confusion written all over their face, watching Kobra with clear bafflement.

“Dude, who are you?” They ask. “I mean, I like hugs, I think, but who are you?”

Kobra’s sinks for a moment until he realises something. “Oh! I’ve transitioned since I’ve last seen you! Remember, I’m your twin? I used to be your sister? I’m your brother, now, though.”

Kobra hesitates, then whispers his dead name as softly as possible. The person in his arms stares at them with even more confusion, before laughing. Kobra relaxes at the sound before hearing the next few words tumble out of their mouth, “Ah, I don’t have a family, man. That’s a good one. Ha.”

“What?” Kobra lets them go.

The person taps their head, still laughing. “Killjoys killed my family when I was twelve. I was the only survivor, but I’ve got amnesia. Haha, a brother.”

Kobra watches them in horror. “No, that’s… we’re twins, we….”

“I’ve got the equipment!” Jet cries , pushing Kobra out of the way to hand it to Cherri. Kobra startles into the next booth over, right where Newsie was sitting. She watches him with a grim expression, and Hot Chimp sits on the table, gazing down at Kobra with a sad smile.

“Well, that explains why that kid looked familiar,” Hot Chimp decided.

“You know what else is familiar?” Ghoul begins to move towards Cherri, peeking behind him at the newcomer, who’s laughing at the ceiling. “They’re high as shit. That weed smells awfully familiar.”

“They didn’t steal your weed, Ghoul,” Jet admonishes. “They look like they just escaped Battery City. How the hell could they steal your weed?”

“Wait, you have weed?” Kobra asks. He’s trying to process everything that’s fucking happened.

“Jet!” Ghoul cries. “No, I don’t have weed!”

“Dude, what the fuck do you think is in that closet by the bathroom?” Jet shakes his head. “Why do you think Ghoul spends so much time there? Why do you think Ghoul brought back a shit ton of dirt from zone seven back here?”

“I thought he was gonna eat the dirt?”

“Listen, I ate sand fucking ONCE!”

“Dude, he’s growing pot back there.”

“What the hell?!” Kobra spins on his heels. “What the fuck? How come I’ve never had any?”

“It’s my weed, man!”

“You piece of fucking shit! I can’t believe your hoarding ass kept this from me! But not Jet?”

“I stole his edibles and found the weed closet like days after Ghoul started it,” Jet offers. “So he didn’t tell me.”

“Who else knew about the weed closet?”

Hot Chimp and Newsie raise their hands. Cherri hesitantly stops stitching up Kobra’s twin and lifts a hand. His twin, who looks like they’re on the verge of passing the fuck out, raises a hand weakly.

“I hate you all!” Kobra cries.

“Hey, he tried to sell it to us, that’s how we know.” Hot Chimp shrugs. “That weed’s shit, though.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty bad,” Jet agreed. “You’re not missing out on much.”

“Can we stop shitting on my weed? I worked hard on that!” Ghoul spins towards Kobra’s sibling and slams his hands on the table, right by their head, causing them to flinch. “Now the better question isn’t ‘why do I have weed’, it’s ‘why the fuck do they smell like my weed?’”

“Dude, move.” Cherri pushes Ghoul away. “You’re scaring the hoes.”

Kobra’s sibling is giggling furiously, and Cherri goes back to stitching them up as best he can. 

“Oh, I got this weed from, uh, God?” They say. “Uh, I think She said Her name was the Phoenix Witch?”

Cherri stops stitching. He slams his hand on the table, mimicking Ghoul not even minutes ago. “The Witch? You met Her? Holy fuck! What was She like?”

“She offered me a blunt.” They giggle. “She’s a bird. Angry bird.”

“Don’t you offer weed at the Witch’s mailbox?” Jet asks Ghoul, who’s staring at Kobra’s sibling in slackjaw horror.

“Yeah,” he frantically whispers. “But it was a joke! The Witch can smoke weed?”

“Yeah, She likes it a lot,” Kobra’s twin states.

“Sorry to interrupt this fascinating conversation,” Newsagogo states, “but can we go back to the part where this corpse is apparently Kobra’s sibling?”

“No, wait, tell me more,” Cherri urges. “Did She, uh, mention me?”

“I’m so hungry,” they complain.

“What was She like? What did it feel like to die?”

“Weird.” They giggle a bit, their eyes dropping even more. They’re about to pass out, and Cherri looks ready to start shaking them to get a clear cut answer.

Finally, Kobra’s sibling drifts off. Cherri picks up the needle and angrily begins to stitch them up. “You look like shit and you’ve been shot so many times and you nearly bleed out three times but when you wake up I’m going to interrogate the shit out of you.”

“Hey, can we talk about this person being Kobra’s sibling? Can we please talk about that?” Newsie’s waving her hand frantically, trying to grab their attention.

The weight of what transpired suddenly crushed Kobra. He puts his head on the table and stares absently at his sibling, who looks like complete shit. God, his sibling’s alive. Wait, but they also fucking died?

“Kobra? Uh, we’ve got questions.”

“Yeah, that’s my fucking twin.” Kobra sighs. “And apparently, they don’t even fucking remember me.”

“How could that happen?” Hot Chimp taps her chin. “Why didn’t you leave together?”

“My sibling’s always been kind of… rowdy. The pills didn’t work on them all that well- we’re fraternal twins. They worked on me, but not them. They got caught sneaking out to the Lobby, and that was BLi’s final straw. They snatched my sibling right before my eyes, kidnapped them, ripped them out of my home.” Kobra rubs his face. “I was twelve. God, this whole time I thought they died. BLi doesn’t waste resources on people they don’t think can be re-educated, and I thought they were too far gone for BLi to try to ‘save’.”

Kobra glances back at them. “I guess BLi fucking wiped them.”

“They do that sometimes.” Newsie sighs. “They sometimes induce amnesia into people and give them these crazy backstories to make them hate killjoys. That’s usually what they do before turning them into Drac’s or exterminators and stuff.”

The room goes quiet. A tension settles over them, and Cherri snips the thread, a sound that echoes through the walls. 

“You don’t think…” Kobra’s voice is small.

“That does look like an outfit BLi would make,” Hot Chimp whispers. “And it looks like they literally just escaped BLi?”

Kobra rubs his head. Ghoul stomps his foot. “Woah, woah, if that’s a fucking Drac, let alone an exterminator, we can’t fucking keep it here!”

“What!” Kobra jolts to his feet. “We’re not just gonna kick them out!”

“They’re dangerous!”

“They’re high on weed! How are they dangerous?!”

“When they’re not high they’re gonna try to kill us!”

“They don’t even have a gun, bastard!”

“Why don’t we just wait for them to wake up, ask them a few questions, and learn some more about them, hm?” Jet shrugs. “I mean, it’s been seven years since you’ve seen them. Who knows.”

Kobra sucks in a deep breath. “Right. Fine. When they wake up, we’re gonna interrogate them.”

-

Things don’t ever really work out as planned. Kobra’s sibling wakes up about an hour later. Cherri, Hot Chimp, Newsie, and Ghoul are playing a game of poker in Ghoul and Kobra’s bedroom, Kobra is lurking around in Jet’s room, sulking, and Jet Star is rolling a blunt on the table the sibling is laid out on.

“Oh god,” they suddenly croak. “God, I’m so hungry.”

“Well, I think Ghoul ate the last of the power pup,” Jet casually begins. “But I can offer you some more weed. We’ve got some edibles.”

Jet disappears from the table for a bit. He digs around in the closet, pushing past the weed plants and moving a few items. He comes back to the table with a plastic bag and jingles it in front of the newcomer. “They’re weed brownies. Want some?”

The newcomer snatches it out of Jet’s hands. “Fuck, yes. I’m so hungry I could eat Destroya.”

“Sounds metal.”

They snort, then stuff a brownie in their mouth. Jet takes out a lighter and lights up the blunt. “Wanna go to the roof? I don’t wanna smoke too much. Newsie doesn’t like the smell.”

“Ugh, yeah. I could use some air.”

They try to sit up. Jet Star offers a hand and they take it. With not even a visible ounce of strain, Jet pulls them right off the table and they stand on shaky legs, nearly falling face down. Jet keeps a steady hand on their shoulder and keeps them from falling.

“Let’s head out.”

Jet Star half carries, half drags their ass up to the roof. Getting them on the ladder was hard, but they eventually managed to get their balance in check, and they ascended you to the roof.

“Holy shit,” they whisper, staring up at the sky. “Woah, it’s so bright.”

Jet glances at the stars. “Oh, it’s summer. They change colours during the night. Atmosphere is all fucked up. I’m not sure. Or maybe it’s because Venus is in Scorpio. Something like that.”

“Reminds me of holes punched in a jar when you catch a big.”

“Fuck man, maybe the earth is just one big bug jar.”

Kobra’s sibling sits down and Jet moves next to them. It’s cold, but Jet doesn’t feel it much. The siblings shaking a bit though, so Jet wraps an arm around them.

“I’d like to be a butterfly,” they say, absently.

“Lightning bugs are pretty cool.”

“Shit, I change my answer. I want my ass to glow.”

“Ooh, Fun Ghoul can glow.”

“What? Really?”

“Yeah. He spent most of his life out in zone seven, which is like, hella radiated. So he can glow. Like if you break his arm it’s like a glow stick, his bones just start glowing.”

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah. I’ll get him to pop his knuckles for you. He glows.”

“God, that’s sick as hell.” They pop another brownie in their mouth while Jet takes a smoke.

“So you met god, huh?”

“Yeah, She’s kind of hot.”

“That’s cool, man.”

“I can’t believe God is a crow.”

There’s the sound of footsteps smacking against the ladder. The latch roof opens and Ghoul sticks his head up. His eyes glow menacingly in the lacking light.

“You stole my weed! Again!”

“Chill out,” Jet states, and offers his blunt to Ghoul. Ghoul snatched it and takes a huff. “I know you’re already high, anyway.”

“Listen, I can’t play card games without getting high first. It makes me more aware.”

“Dude, you’re shit at them.”

“But I’m less shitty when I’m high.”

“Just in general, that’s true.”

Ghoul punches Jet’s shoulder and sits down across from them. “Whatever. Anyway, who the fuck are you?”

“God, that’s a good question.” Kobra’s sibling yawns. “I guess I’m the guy that crashed your…. movie night? I think that’s what the scary tall woman was talking about while she held me at gun point in her car. Huh.”

“Hot Chimp.” Jet steals the blunt back and takes a smoke. “She’s intense.”

-

Kobra’s pacing around in Jet’s room, nearly turning the carpet into char with how fast he’s walking. Christ, hes been envisioning a moment like this for years, but he didn’t think it’s end up like this.

His sibling comes back from the dead (literally?), high off their ass, and doesn’t even recognize him. Christ, they have the same fucking face. They have amnesia. They could be a Drac or an exterminator?

Kobra wrings his hands. God, he finally got his sibling back, but they don’t even know they’re siblings. They didn’t even believe him! Would they believe him when he’s sober?

Kobra wants to get close to them again. Kobra just thought they’d be able to instantly connect, that nothing would change between them if they found each other again. Kobra didn’t think he’d have to rebuild this relationship from scratch.

He hears laughter from the roof. He ignores it, and scratches at his skin. Shit, what does he do?

-

“I mean,” Ghoul begins. “I can think of worst ways for our movie night to get smashed.”

“Yeah, like if we had a pack of Dracs come here.”

“Well, you do have an exterminator here,” Kobra’s sibling states, absently.

“Aw shit, you are one? No joke?”

“Used to be. But like, it’s all good now.”

“Oh, you know Korse, huh?” Ghoul prods.

“Yeah, he was my commander. He’s so fucking weird. He waxes his head.”

“Man, I thought his hair fell out from being so stressed and angry all the time. That’s better though.”

“Korse killed my mom,” Jet Star says, idly. “Well, he Draced my mama, who then killed my mom. But he caused it.”

“Damn, that’s fucked up.”

“I’d like a mom,” Kobra’s sibling states.

“Me too,” Ghoul huffs. “My parents died when I was five. Coyotes were my moms.”

“Moms?”

“Yeah, there were a bunch of women in that pack. Love them to bits.”

“Did they have names?”

“Yeah. Spot, Spotty, Dots, Patches, Spot Jr, Cactus, and, uh, Mike.”

“Damn. They sound nice.”

Ghoul starts tearing up. “Yeah, they were. Bestest boys and girls and others I ever knew.”

Jet Star pats Ghoul’s back. Kobra’s sibling offers Ghoul a brownie, which he sadly eats. “God, I love dogs.”

“Dogs are nice,” Jet admits. “Dog food isn’t, though.”

-

The wheels in Kobra’s head are spinning violently. They finally have their sibling back. They’re back! But they’re not.

How much do they remember? If they have amnesia, they can’t remember much, can they? Do they remember the songs their mom would sing them to sleep with? The times they would both sneak out to the Lobby when they convinced Kobra to stop taking his pills until the withdrawal kicked back in? Do they remember that day they were stolen right under Kobra’s nose?

Do they remember the franticness to their every move? The terror in their soul? The men in white grabbing them and kicking them and pushing them out of the house? Do they remember Kobra watching, silently, complacently, as his entire world was snatched away? 

They don’t remember Kobra. 

Kobra sits on the ground in the middle of the room. Are they even Kobra’s sibling? Can Kobra still call them that when they don’t even remember him, doesn’t even see him as their brother?

They’re twins. Their souls are conjoined. They’re brothers, same flesh and blood. But what does that matter to someone who thinks their entire family is dead, to someone who can’t even remember their family?

Tears spill down Kobra Kid’s cheeks.

-

“Dog food is shit,” Ghoul agreed. “Tastes exactly like that time I ate sand.”

“Why the hell did you eat sand?”

“I wasn’t sure what a sandwich was. I know now, no thanks to my asshole friends.”

Kobra’s sibling giggles at that. “You don’t know what a sandwich is?”

“I do! Now! And it’s not made of sand!”

“Unlike these brownies,” Jet says, chewing on one with a pained expression.

“What, you think there’s just flour laying around here in the goddamn desert?”

“I mean, we did find expired twinkies once.”

“You insult me. As a chef, Ian insulted. Expired flour would be terrible to use, we’d all die.”

“And eating sand is better?”

“You won’t die from it.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I ate sand once!”

“Considering what these brownies are made from,” Kobra’s sibling begins, “it was more than once.”

“Shut up!”

“No, that’s a good point, I think.” Jet takes another bite. “Better than those rocks Kobra made for us once.”

“I’m a chemist. I know how to cook.”

“Barely.”

“But better than you!”

“Yet you can’t sell these brownies, huh?”

“Stop making fun of my weed!”

“Hey, if I die again, can I snag some of your weed to give to the Witch? She likes it.”

“I can’t believe god is a stoner.”

“Adult life is already so god damn weird,” Jet says, rubbing his forehead. “Why the hell not?”

“God is also a bird.”

“Wait, if you fell in love with god, does that make you a furry?”

Jet bursted out laughing. Kobra’s sibling watched Ghoul with a curious expression. “What’s ‘furry’ mean?”

-

Kobra tried to choke down a couple of sobs. If they don’t see him as their brother, then Kobra can’t fucking be their brother. Should he even bother trying to bring this up again? If they don’t remember him, is it fair to force this title on him?

There’s nothing that binds them now. Not blood nor memories. There’s nothing that connects them. They’re strangers now, unknown to each other.

Kobra knows them, but does he really? Seven years can change a person. Kobra knows he’s changed a shit ton in that amount of time. Who knows what that’s done to them, even without the fact that they’re an amnesiac!

Is it fair to try to tell them if a life they can never have, they can never remember? Is it fair of Kobra to force this backstory on them?

They need to figure out who they are, their own identity. Kobra shouldn’t just carve one out for them. No, it’s up to them to figure out who they are and what they want to be. 

Kobra cries, softly, in the middle of Jet Star’s room. No, he can’t tell them that they’re siblings. He’ll just pretend they hallucinated it. Yeah.

He’s sure he can get the others in on it. Yeah. They deserve to find out who they are, not be told who they were. They don’t need expectations they’ll never meet, they don’t need Kobra to tell them who they are. They can be whoever they wanted to be.

-

“Oh,” Kobra’s sibling says after a very intricate explanation. “Huh. Yeah, I guess so. Huh.”

“I think Cherri’s in love with the Witch.”

“Do you think they ever met?”

“No, Cherri’s a little bitch. I don’t think he’s ever died.” Jet nods. “No, but he wants to. Not die, maybe, but like, he wants to meet Her.”

“Man, I can’t believe She actually exists.” Ghoul takes a drag. “Hope I’m on Her good side since I’ve offered Her so much weed.”

“This weed is pretty good,” Kobra’s sibling states. “But I’ve also never had other weed before.”

“Trust me, once you do, this’ll taste like shit.”

“Stop! This is good fucking weed! The Witch likes it!”

“How many times do you think She’s been offered weed? Not enough.”

“Oh my god, I’m the Witch’s dealer.”

“What was it like, huh? Coming back from the dead?”

“There was a lot of screaming.” Kobra’s sibling hums. “Mostly from Hot Chimp. Not too painful, but I think that was because of the weed.”

“Can’t believe you were literally roadkill.” Jet takes a drag. “Damn.”

“The vultures looting my body were just Hot Chimp and Newsie.”

Ghoul bursts out laughing. “Shit man. They tried to fucking loot you!”

“Hey, what’s your name, huh?”

Kobra’s sibling blinks. “Huh?”

“You know,” Jet Star begins, waving around his joint. “Like, I’m Jet Star, that’s Fun Ghoul, the blond kid is Kobra Kid, the buff guy that stitched you up is Cherri Cola, and you met Hot Chimp and Newsie. So who are you?”

They remain quiet for a little while.

-

No, they’re not Kobra’s sibling anymore. That’s fine. Kobra will just rebuild this relationship. They don’t have any common denominators, but that won’t stop Kobra.

He’ll let them grow into who they need to be. Not tied down by a nonexistent past.

Kobra cries, softly, gently. He knows what he has to do, but god, why does this hurt so much?

-

“Party Poison.”

“Party Poison?” Ghoul echoes. “Well, that doesn’t sound like a city name.”

“I’d been planning on leaving the city for a while. I wanted to be a killjoy, so I figured I ought to have a killjoy name. I picked Party Poison.”

“Huh, any reason?”

“I wanted to be the poison to BLi’s party. A true killjoy. I want to be the rain on their black parade.”

“Edgy. I like it.” Ghoul whistles. “This makes your initials pp, though.”

Party Poison freezes. They suck in a deep breath, then snatch the joint from Ghoul’s hand and takes a drag. “Fuck it. I’m already committed to it.”

Jet slaps their back. “Well, welcome to the Terrific Trio!”

“There’s four of us now,” Ghoul argues. “We can’t call ourselves that.”

“Four? What about Newsie and Chimp and Cherri?”

“Oh, they’re the DJs. They’re not in our killjoy gang. They’re just friends.”

“Huh.”

“Well, if we can’t be the Terrific Trio, what are we gonna be?” Jet sighs. “I worked hard on that alliteration!”

“What the fuck is an alliteration?”

“I don’t know, that’s just what Cherri called it.”

“Well, there’s four of us. Something with an ‘f’.” Ghoul scratches his chin. “Fantastic? Fanatical?”

“Feral? Fun? Effervescent?”

“That starts with an e?”

“Feral?”

“No, effervescent.” Ghoul frowns. “I think.”

“Oh. Well, um… friendly? Fake? Flaky? Fresh?”

“Festive? Flexible? F…. Faggot…”

“We’re just saying every f word we know.”

“FUCK.”

“Fuckable? Actually, that’s not bad.”

“Fucking Four?”

“On second thought, no.”

“Frisky? Fortuitous.”

“You don’t know what that means.”

“Neither do you.”

“What about ‘fabulous’?” Party Poison stares at them with wide eyes. “Or ‘fab’?”

Jet slaps Poison’s back. “Oh! I like that!”

“Yeah, better than literally everything else we had.”

“Fuckable Four is still pretty good, though.” Poison winks.

“I think Kobra would kill us.”

“Well, Party Poison,” Jet begins, with an exaggerated ton and a small bow. He holds out his hand, and Poison takes it. “Welcome to the Fabulous Four.”

Party Poison smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> i’ve never had weed before but im plagued by this so here


End file.
